The RACCOON CITY CHRONACLES
by James Bond
Summary: A novelization of everything that happens in Raccoon. Mainly focuses on RE2&3. Updated to change the rating and [its not quite R yet] and to add that I REALLY WANT SOME REVIEWS!!
1. Prologue

The RACCOON CITY CHRONACLES  
  
In this ambitious story, I attempt to novelize Resident Evil 2 and 3, including the "behind the   
scenes" portions like the takeover of Raccoon city.  
  
While writing this story I've made a few adjustments. All are minor, consisting mainly of   
abridging things. For example, in the RE 3 portion Jill doesn't meet the guy in the shed, who's   
name escapes me. Also, Brad dies the first time Jill sees him: in the alley. And so forth. No   
major plotline elements (TM) will be removed.  
  
While I'm at it: Resident Evil doesn't belong to me, bla bla, it belongs to Capcom, bla bla, this story does belong to me, bla bla, plajurists will be fed to the Neptune.  
  
Prologue  
  
Since May of 1998, there had been reports of people being murdered in the midwestern town of   
Raccoon city. This in and of itself was nothing to be excited about; the death of other human   
beings was a fact of life. It was the manner in which these murders had been committed that   
raised many eyebrows. The victems of the bizzarre crimes appeared to have been eaten alive. They   
had originally been thought to be attacks by wild animals, but the absence of said wild animals,   
combined with the fingerprints, saliva, and skin cells around the scenes of the crimes led to the   
inescapable conclusion that humans were the architects of these killings.  
ON July 23rd of 1998, the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad (STARS) "bravo team" was lead into the   
Raccoon City forest by captain Enrico Marini, to investigate the crash of a truck, the occupants   
reportedly mauled to death. After a full day of complete radio silence, the STARS "alpha team"   
was sent in after them to find out what had happened.  
On landing, they found the Bravo Team's helicopter, apparently having made a crash landing. They   
found the pilot, quite obviously dead and mangled almost beyond recognition. No one else (or   
their remains) were found, and none of the chopper's equipment had been taken although some of it   
appeared to have been smashed. The architects of this murder, a pack of wild dogs, soon made   
their appearance, announcing themselves by swarming upon Joseph Frost, a member of the team, and   
tearing him to shredds.  
The remainder of the story is still in question. The few survivors of the incident swear blind   
that they fired at the dogs without any effect, but such a thing is difficult to believe. After   
they escaped the terror, they attempted to tell their story to everyone they knew, but no one   
believed.  
According to them, they opened fire on the dogs tearing Frost's assophigus out but they didn't   
even seem to feel the gunfire, and soon looked up from their meal to pursue the still-livving   
STARS members. The whole situation prooved too much for the Alpha Team's helicopter pilot, who's   
name was Brad Vickers and who would forever rightfully earn the nickname "chickenheart" for his   
actions that day: lifting off from his position and circling above the forest, stranding the   
members of the team in a forest populated with ravenous dogs that seemed to ignore gunshot   
wounds. The team captain, Albert Wesker, instructed the team to fall back. Team member Barry   
Berton spotted a large mansion, and suggested that the remainder of the team head for it. They   
did so, and slammed the doors on the attacking dogs, who began milling around the sides of the   
mansion, looking for a way in...  
As the surviving team members began to catch their breath and look around the front hall, they   
all quite distinctly heard four gunshots, followed by a faint scream. (authors note: yes, I know   
it was only one, but the film in the remake has four and I'm going with that.)  
Wesker ordered Chris Redfield to find the source of the gunshots, then report back. (authors   
note: okay, here we go... I would like to note that this may not be the official way things   
turned out; it just seems the most likely to me.) Chris did so, entering a door leading to a   
dining room and another that lead to a long hall. Chris followed it to the end, which contained a   
door on each side and a horribly-mangled body on the floor, a pistol lying beside him. The man   
was Kennith Sullivan, and he was a member of the Bravo Team.  
As Chris stared down at the body, he heard a loud bang from his left. As he turned in   
surprise, his eyes fell on a man... or what looked like one. His head was utterly hairless, and   
appeared to be diseased. His skin was peeling off him in sheets, and his eyes were filmed over by   
a cateract. Moaning faintly, he--it--began shuffling towards him slowly and uncoordinatedly.   
Chris was shocked. He could only stand staring as the man-thing shuffled towards him, his arms   
extended as though to hug someone. It opened its mouth and began salivating, the drool escaping   
from the things mouth mixed with bright red blood. Chris could see pieces of skin in the zombie's   
teeth. Chris raised his Bereta and fired three rounds into the things chest, near its heart.   
Chris grinned with satisfaction as he did so, anticipating a moan of pain as the thing dropped to   
the floor. This was not to be. It continued forward towards him, heedless--seemingly unaware--of   
the .45-caliber holes drilled  
through its chest oozing blood onto the carpeting. The thing was almost upon him now. It grabbed   
him and lowered its head to Chris's neck with the intent to rip a large chunk of meat out of his   
throat, or maybe to champ down on one of the tendons there. This put the zombie's head directly   
into Chris's gunsight and he fired one, two, three, four, five shots into the thing, firing until   
the clip emptied, spasmotically pulling the trigger long after the gun had emptied and the zombi   
had fallen limply to the floor with its brains covering the walls. He dropped to one knee and   
vomited a thick stream of green puke onto the hall's carpet, mixing sickly with the blood, brains   
and spit that had already accumulated there. After he was done, he retrieved Kennith's gun,   
collected the remaining clips, reloaded his own weapon and backtracked to the front hall just as   
fast as he could. This had to get out. He had to tell Wesker and the others.  
Except that Wesker wasn't there. Neither were Barry Berton and Jill Valentine, the other members   
of the team. The only traces of them were a smear of blood on one of the walls and Jill's 9mm   
Bereta lying unfired on the floor.  
(author's note: yeah, i know Chris didn't start out with a gun at the beginning, but I don't   
think that makes much sense. EVERYONE ELSE DOES--THE helicopter pilot, who is never expected to   
go into battle, has a frigging antitank rocket launcher squirreled away in his chopper, for the   
love of god! A ROCKET LAUNCHER!)  
The team's disappearance was the first in a stream of bad luck. Chris was forced to wander the   
mansion, looking for clues as to just what the hell was happening, or even better a way out so he   
could light a signal flare and hope to God that Brad was manly enough to attempt a rescue. He was   
ambushed by two of the "'zombie dogs" jumping through a plate-glass window, but after four or   
five shots from his gun they fell. Exploring the mansion, he found a diary from a man named   
George Trevor, the mansion's architect, and how he was thrown into the mansion's hidden   
underground laberynth by a man called Ozwell Spencer, the man Trevor had built the mansion for.   
This name struck a faint bell of familiarity with Chris, but he shook it off.  
The next thing of importance he found was Rebecca Chambers, the Bravo Team's newest recruit: the   
eighteen-year-old medic. They continued to explore the house, and came across even stranger   
creatures. All of them seemed to have been previously living animals, but now they had been   
mutated beyond recognition. There were mutated snakes, mutaded insects, mutated crows (some of   
which were found pecking at the exposed ribcage of Forest Speyer, another bravo team member),   
mutated sharks, mutated spiders, and even a mutated plant codenamed "plant-42." Reading notes and   
scattered papers as well as journals all over the mansion began to pay off. Apparently, the   
megacorporation Umbrella, which pretty much owned Raccoon City, was involved in more then just   
pharmisuticles. They also appeared to be involved in a project called the "T-Virus", which turned   
any living organism it touches into a remorseless, implacable killer that lived for one thing and   
one thing only: fresh food.  
Then, something even worse happened. Rebecca let out a scream of fear which Chris heard and ran   
towards. Rebecca was in a study of the mansion, being menaced by a... what was it? It was green,   
appeared lizzard-like, about two feet high, walked upright, and sported a truely VICIOUS set of   
claws. The thing looked nothing like anything Chris or Rebecca had ever seen. The thing screamed-  
-yes, SCREAMED--AND ran incredibly fast towards Chris. Chris turned and ran, but the thing   
slashed at the backs of his knees, bringing him down. The thing shrieked in triumph and brought   
its claws around to sever Chris's head from his body when a single gunshot rang out. The thing   
collapsed onto the ground, and Rebecca lowered her smoking gun.  
Chris then soon after heard a transmition from Brad over a broken radio he had taken from Richard   
Aken, another disseesed member of the Bravo team. Brad said that he was still circling and   
awaiting response, but Chris was not allowed to respond because the damn thing was broken.  
Searching through the mansion some more, Chris was able to activate a disused elevator which   
brought him down into an underground mine tunnel of some sort. It branched off in many   
directions. Down the end of one tunnel, Chris found Enrico Marini, the captain of the Bravo team.   
He was wounded, but very much alive--a fact that was drivven home when Enrico suddenly twitched   
violently and aimed his weapon at Chris. Stunned, Chris flailed his hands up but Enrico did not   
drop his gun and told him to stay there. He said that STARS had been betrayed. Chris suddenly   
realized Enrico wasn't aiming at Chris, but passed him. Enrico's hand tightened around the   
trigger, but just before he could fire a single gunshot rang out from behind Chris, and Enrico   
died at once. Chris pursued the man who had shot Enrico, but the arival of a pack of those green   
lizard things allowed the killer to escape.  
Exploring further, Chris encountered a hideously twisted creature. Once a woman, it shuffled   
towards him in the remains of a dress, its legs chained together as it screamed before attacking.   
The creature took enough punishment to stop a semi and still kept coming; Chris had to evade.   
Eventually, he came upon the crypt of Jessica Trevor, the wife of George Trevor. Here, Chris   
encountered the twisted creature again. However, after he opened Jessica's sarcofagus the   
creature grabbed her skull and jumped into a nearby pit. A letter in the coffin confirmed his   
sick suspicions: the twisted creature was Lisa Trevor, George Trevor's daughter, who had been   
driven quite insane by the testing Umbrella had done on her since she was fourteen.  
Continuing on, Chris and Rebecca found a secret passageway hidden in an ornate fountain. It led   
downward, into what appeared to be an underground laboratory. In the lab's audiovisual room,   
Chris put a roll of film he had found into the projector. The screen shown a picture of the   
zombie dog, and labeled it a cerbrus. Next, it shown apicture of the shark, which was labeled   
"neptune". The green thing was displayed next, which the film labeled "hunter". Finally, the   
screen showed statistics for some monster or other, with the ledgend "T-002 Tyrant" on it.   
Strangely, there was no picture of the monster. Next, the movie showed a group of scientists. One   
of said scientists just happened to be a certain captain Albert Wesker. He had been givven orders   
by Umbrella, Inc. to loor the STARS into the mansion to their deaths, and send the resulting   
combat data to Umbrella HQ.  
Even worse, as Chris continued exploring he found a jail cell with Jill Valentine held captive   
within it. Jill cried out when she saw him, and warned him about Wesker before Chris cut her off   
and said that he knew already. Turning to leave and search for a key to unlock Jill's cell, his   
head revolved into the barrel of a .357 Magnum, held by Barry Burton.  
Wesker sauntered around the corner, jauntily waving to Chris. The bastard was so sure of   
himself that he didn't even bother to unholster his own pistol.  
"Well well well, look what we have here. The imortal Rambo Redfield, with his vergin   
jailbait sidekick! I always wondered why that kid in "THE BODY" was named Chris Chambers..."   
Rebecca spat in his face.  
"You son of a bitch," Chris hissed. Wesker smirked. "Who, me? Naaao, it aint my fault; its   
the fault of all those damn zombies. They're the ones tryin' to kill you, not me. You should sort   
out your priorities on who exactly is going to kill you; you'll live longer that way."  
"You sold us out to Umbrella, you bastard. You're working for them."  
"Now wait just a god damn minute," Wesker shouted, suddenly growing angry. "Who the HELL   
says I've been working for Umbrella?"  
"The film in the audiovisual room," Chris replied evenly.  
"Yeah, that, well its old news. I am no longer a member of Umbrella Incorporated as of...   
5:00 yesterday mornin'. I'm jumpin' ship, I'm goin' to the other side, i'm gonna get in good with   
one of Umbrella's competitors. All this was just to cover my tracks. I'm gonna steal Umbrella's   
most powerful bioweapon, then blow up all this (he gestured with his arms to encompass the entire   
complex) to obliterate all the evidence. They'll think we're all dead, but Barry here. Barry has   
a life to live, don't he?" Barry hung his head ashamedly.  
"You, Barry? You surprise me. What's your stake in this?"  
"Oh, Barry's a good little bear. He's just a stupid grunt who loves his family too much for   
his own good. Myself, I hope nothing happens to them--but, you knowUmbrella can be... quite   
horrible when displeased."  
"All this--murder, blackmail, arsen all so you can make a goddamn buck? You people are   
inhuman. All the ambition to make your unstoppable killing machines, and in the process you make   
undead terrors that live in excruciating hunger all of there unnatural "lives"."  
"Would you like to see it? Would you like to see our... ultimate achievment?" Wesker   
withdrew his gun from his holster. "Go on, Barry. Twiddle your thumbs."  
Barry gave Chris an appologetic look as Wesker gestured Chris forward. "Fool. If he had any   
brain power at all he'd realize that there's no way I could really do anything to his family if I   
was dead."  
Wesker brought Chris at gunpoint into the deepest of the underground labs. Dominating the   
room was a large tank filled with fluid. Submerged in the fluid was a huge, human-like creature.   
It was incredibly tall, and its skin was chalk white. It looked on the world with blery red eyes.   
Its left arm was scaled to size; the other one was at least twice as long, at the end of which   
was a large and incredibly lethal-looking blue claw. Chris could see veins standing out on the   
thing's chalky skin.  
Wesker smiled at the Tyrant proudly.  
"Now, I steal this creation to buy my way in. And I might as well get some... combat data."  
Wesker went over to a control pannel, and began hitting buttons. Chris watched, horrified,   
as the tank's fluid slowly began to drain. "Are you insane? That thing'll kill us all!"  
Before Wesker could respond or rebuff this, Chris heard a crack, then a thump. Turning, he   
saw Barry standing over wesker, lowering his gun.  
"Chris, man, I am so sorry for doing all that--he made me do it, okay? The bastard was   
blackmailing my family! Listen, you--"  
Except Barry never got to finish his sentence, as they both heard an almighty CRASH from   
behind them. Turning, they both saw the same sight:  
The Tyrant creature was taking swings at the glass with its enormous claw. After only three   
hits, the heavy glass burst apart. Slowly and jerkily, the Tyrant began making its way towards   
the two.  
Chris, Rebecca and Barry fought the Tyrant. It was a surprisingly one-sided fight; the Tyrant   
creature, for all the hype, was really quite sluggish and slow from its months of containment and   
they were able to tripple-team it and run it around the lab. After surprisingly little   
punishment, the "most powerful bioweapon" collapsed in a bloody pile. Once they could look   
around, they noticed that Wesker was gone. As they did so, they heard an announcement from a   
computer system: the self-destruct mechanism had been activated; in three minutes, the mansion   
would be blown sky high. The upshot of this was that all the doors were automatically unlocked to   
make for an easier evacuation. The threesome ran to the jail cell and freed Jill from her cell.   
The four ran up stairs and elevators until they reached the mansion's helipad. They signaled Brad   
Vickers to pick them up. The chopper began to descend.  
Of course, nothing is ever that easy. With one minute to go before distruction, the surface of   
the roof exploded upward as the Tyrant burst up onto it. It had shaken off its slowness from the   
incubation tank, and it now moved with the controled speed and strength of a freight train. Even   
with all four of them they could barely hold their own against the now very aptly-named "most   
powerful bioweapon". With seconds to go, Brad tossed a rocket launcher out the window. The four   
could barely hold their own against the Tyrant with small-arms fire, but an antitank rocket   
launcher was quite a different story. Jill grabbed it before it hit the ground, aimed, and fired   
a rocket directly into the things chest, exploding the creature into pieces which rained down   
over the roof like a tickertape parade for a hero.  
The survivors piled inside the helicopter, which took off almost immediately. As they flew away,   
everyone in the chopper except Brad turned around to see the Spencer Mansion explode in a pillar   
of flame, its ancient secrets forever lost in a raging firestorm.  
  
After they returned to Raccoon City, they each attempted to file a report on the incident.   
Unfortunately, the STARS were a unit from the Raccoon City Police Department, and they had to   
report directly to chief Brian Irons. Chief Brian Irons was very insistant on refusing to listen   
to them. Suspecting Irons might be secretly involved with Umbrella, Chris decided to investigate   
Umbrella on his own, after requesting a federal probe into Chief Irons and Umbrella. Jill decided   
she would stay in Raccoon City to gather evidence, while the rest left the city to work on their   
own. Every once in a while, a wild animal would wander into the city limmits and start going   
crazy on people, but the animal would quickly be put down. There were roomours about what had   
happened, as well as roomours about people who livved near the forest being turned into zombies,   
but like all roomours they soon faded away. Things quieted down some, and Umbrella began to   
relax. The Spencer outbreak would  
eventually filter itself away, and thanks to Irons they were in little danger of being   
discovered. Sadly for them, they had lost one of their greatest members: Albert Wesker. Everyone   
at Umbrella Inc. headquarters breathed a collective sigh of relief that the potentially fatal   
mistake had been covered.  
In Europe, however, the French devision of Umbrella had some different ideas... 


	2. Chapter 1: Hunk's mission

The man known as "Hunk" marched stiffly up to the door of the seventh-floor conference room. He   
waited for the red light over the door to turn green, then watched it slide slowly open as he   
entered. Around the table were the four members of his team, and at its head was Christeen Henry,   
the vice President of the French branch of Umbrella.  
"Let's get started, shall we?" she said crisply. "In 1989, the recently diseesed Albert   
Wesker forced us to give him a copy of our Nemesis parasite. He was planning to help the   
longevity of the parasite--the subjects we have so far tested the parasite on have all been   
killed by the process of turning them into Nemesis Bioweapons. I personally believe that if he   
could have created a Nemesis bioweapon he would have taken credit from us, but that is beside the   
point. They used it on a woman named Lisa Trevor, and her brain... well... ate it. Dr. William   
Birkin began testing the woman, and found a new virus from her DNA: the "G-Virus". He began work   
on this new virus, and soon was givven full credit." She leaned forward across the table. "Using   
our research, Dr. Birkin made a breakthrough discovery and claimed the credit for it." Her eyes   
burned into Hunks. Hunk, who had a reputation as a hard-ass, flinched away from the power of   
those eyes. "We couldn't do anything about this for the  
past few years; Birkin and Wesker had Ozwell Spencer's ear and it would have been useless to   
complain. But recently, things have changed.  
"I wonder if any of you are aware of the incident in July of 1998 involving the Spencer   
mansion?" They all did. The story had spread like wildfire throughout the megacorporation, and   
had scared quite a few people. "The results of that have been that Wesker was killed and Ozwell   
appears to have dropped off the earth." She leaned forward again. "We have an opportunity,   
gentlemen." She paused. "Your mission is to infiltrate Dr. William Birkin's labs, and obtain a   
sample of the G-Virus. By ANY MEANS NECESSARY. Are we clear on this? Failure on this mission is   
not an option." Everyone understood that failure was an option, but only if you wanted to die.   
"Good. You leave in twenty-four hours. Prepare yourselves, gentlemen."  
  
The unmarked Gulfstream jet flew smoothly across the continental divide and towards the   
midwestern town of Raccoon City. On it were five men carrying enough armament to invade a third-  
world country. They went over the maps of Birkin's underground complex again. The man had very   
little regard for security--no, that wasn't right, Hunk thought. The man knew quite a lot about   
security--but it was the wrong kind. He was always working on keeping things in, and never   
bothered to try and keep other people out. Hunk smirked to himself, thinking about how the poor   
fool had no idea what was going to happen to him in a few hours.  
  
The jet touched down smoothly at the airport. The men loaded their equipment into a waiting   
van, then the pilot turned his jet around and took off. He had a good novel to read; he couldn't   
wait to see what happened to duke Escrimnor and Princess Mariamell.  
  
Hunk drove the van to an abandoned house near the entrance to BirkinS lab. There, he set up   
the receiving end of a surveillance system he would use to communicate with his team. As all of   
his troops knew this wasn't because Hunk was a coward; it was because having someone in reserve   
was sound military strategy, and the leader was too important to risk on a mission unless it   
became necessary. Hunk doubted this, as it was four to one and the one didn't have submachine   
guns.  
  
The four soldiers walked quietly down the underground tunnel. They were each outfitted in   
body armor, night-vision goggles, and gas masks. The latter was an addition they usually did not   
use, but considering the fact that they were dealing with airborne viruses it seemed a good idea,   
even though they all had been vaccinated beforehand. They were each armed with Mp 10 submachine   
guns and an explosive charge. Said guns had been obtained for them by Hunk, who stubbornly held   
out that "uzis are for pussies."  
They each reached the heavy reenforced door at the end of the tunnel, which led to where   
Birkin would be hard at work perfecting the last few details of the G-Virus. One of them   
whispered into his radio headset "we have reached the doors."  
"Blow them," came the calm monotonic voice of Hunk over their radios. They each planted   
their charges on the door, and stepped back. One of the agents raised his weapon, and fired a   
three-round burst at the door.  
The quadroopal explosion would have been enough to punch through a brick wall, or knock down   
a tree. The door was blown off its hinges, and fell, slowly at first, into the room, hitting the   
floor with a clang that was softened by the fact that the metal had slightly melted.  
"Go!" came the shout over the radios as the four surged forward en mass. Dr. William Berkin   
was just filling a hypodermic surringe with a sample of the G-Virus. This they could tell because   
the vial he was pouring from was labeled. He turned around, "startled" being too nice a word but   
there's no other to describe his feelings.  
"Alright, Birkin, we're here for your G-Virus. You're gonna hand it over, or you're gonna   
die. Or maybe you'll grow a third arm out of your forehead and kick all our asses," the agent   
joked, earning him a hard glare from the agent beside him. Birkin grew enraged. "Absolutely not!   
You will not have my G-Virus--my creation! I made it, and I will not allow you to--"  
An agent cut off Birken's speech before he could go into full mad scientist mode by firing   
his weapon into Birkin.  
"Gunfire! Who the hell is firing over there? I said no casualties unless it was necessary,   
goddamnit!" came an angry blare from the radio headsets. Birkin slumped over, holding his stomach   
in pain. He must have known his death was soon.  
"No... I will never die... you won't kill me that easily!" And, to the watching agents'   
astonnishment and horror, Birkin jammed the needle he had been holding into the side of his neck.  
"Ooooooohh shiiiet," someone muttered over the radio link. Simultaneously the soldiers set   
their weapons to full-auto mode and began blazing away.  
"What the fuck is this, a fourth-of-the-july party? I said no fucking shooting! What the   
hell do you need to be shooting at? What the fuck is going on!"  
No one bothered to inform him--they had their own problems. They had been too late in   
firing. Almost instantaneously, Birkin began to transform. The agents had seen pictures of   
creatures created by Umbrella's bioweapons... and they looked NOTHING like this. This... thing.   
There was absolutely no other word to describe it. The umbrella report called this potential   
monster a "G-Type", but that was only a label people could use that could make them cold and   
uncaring towards it. People who had come face-to-face with these monsters would never consider   
them that way again.  
The submachine gun fire did surprisingly little. The creature thrashed around wildly and   
uncontrolably, breaking just about everything in there in the process. One of the things that was   
broken was a sample of T-Virus, which seuer rats would carry into Raccoon City. The agents did   
not have time to dwell on this fact, however. They didn't even notice--they were too busy just   
trying to stay alive.  
  
Hunk slammed his microphone onto the table in a rage. Some trigger-happy idiot had gone and   
shot Birkin, and now he had no idea what was happening. There had been that guy who breathed "oh   
shit", and then there had been shooting, growling, screaming, and a bunch of breaking glass and   
commotion. He was screaming into the microphone for someone, anyone, to give him a fucking status   
report and right now, if you please but they were paying him no goddamn heed. Now, the sounds   
coming out of the radio pickups were hard to distinguish from each other. A high-pitched scream   
cut through the cacophany on the radio. It was quickly replaced by an ear-splitting inhuman roar   
which drowned all else out, which was in turn quickly cut off by a violent blare of static.  
Hunk swore mightily over the dead radio link. If you need something done, he remarked   
irritably to himself as he grabbed his AK-108, you need to get it done yourself. 


	3. Chapter 2: The death of Raccoon City

Over the next five days, Raccoon City began to die. The spill at Birkin's labs was a much more   
serious outbreak then the one in the Spencer Mansion, in that it was larger and started in the   
center of the city. The outbreak was slow to start, but once it got going it became unstoppable.   
Even worse, some people were hit with both outbreaks at once. Said indeviduals virtually turned   
inside out, and grew a vicious set of claws. Oddly enough, their tongues elongated and sharpened   
at the end. These monsters were nicknamed "lickers".  
  
Meanwhile, the Umbrella Corporation was in a mailstrum of activity.  
  
Ozwell Spencer strode into the board meeting with an icy aura of calm. The low mutterings   
that had been present before his entrance silenced at once. The men around the table were just as   
cutthroat as Spencer was, but everybody understood that nobody fucked around with him.  
"Gentlemen," he said neutrally, as though the corporation was not about to go down the   
fucking toilet, "it seems that we have a problem in Raccoon City. I expect that roomours have   
been rampent around the offices, so I will set the facts--the facts, gentlemen--out here. By an   
unknown means, the T-Virus has spilled from one of our labs and has contaminated the city. This--  
"  
"Godddamnit," a member of the board interrupted harshly, "there must be something wrong with   
our containment facilities! This is the SECOND time that a spill has occurred in Raccoon City! I   
find myself questioning the compitence of the workers there."  
Ozwell leveled an ice-cold glare at the man who had interrupted. He seemed to shrink in his   
chair.  
"Be, that, as, it, may..." Spencer replied, making it quite clear from the tone of his voice   
that further discussion on this point was CLOSED, "The city is in the process of destroying   
itself due to the virus. Hundreds have already died, and the outbreak shows no signs of stopping.   
The possibility of the virus spreading to beyond Raccoon is a serious possibility, gentlemen.   
Also, i feel it prudent to add that Dr. William Birkin has gone missing."  
"Do we have any idea what might have caused the outbreak?" asked the man who had orriginally   
interrupted, his voice now lowered and respectful. Spencer gave him a slight nod of   
acknowledgement. "We can make all sorts of guesses, but we'll probably never know for sure."  
"Was Birkin working on anything... special... at the time?" asked someone.  
Spencer nodded slowly. "The G-Virus," he said pointedly, givving them a moment to consider   
this fact. "It makes little difference in any case. The spill in the mansion (he did not say "my   
mansion") was due to James Marcus; this second spill may be due to a similarly unstable element   
that does not figure into our security precautions."  
"Has the United States government made a response?"  
"As of yet they have not, but you can rest assured they will."  
"What about the STARS?" This was asked by the executive at the foot of the table.  
"Only one member has remained within Raccoon City, and that is Jill Valentine. She has   
stayed to attempt to gather evidence against us. So far she has been rather unsuccessful, which   
is why we have left her unharassed up till now."  
"Up till now," someone mumbled to himself, his brows furrowed in thought.  
"You have something to say?" Ozwell asked him.  
"... Yes, I do. Raccoon City is filled with mutated monsters, yes?" There were nods. "And it   
is unlikely that anyone will make it out alive, yes?" more nods.  
"What are you thinking?"  
"Why don't we release one of our bioweapons--possibly a Tyrant--into the city and give it   
orders to eliminate the surviving STARS?"  
There were grumbles and nods around the table. Spencer turned to him, a slight smile on his   
lipps.  
"All in favor?"  
The vote was unanimously in favor.  
"Mr. Spencer, if I may speak?" Spencer nodded. "I know that this company has no qualms with   
killing cevillians, just as I do not, but I feel that this should be avoided unless necessary. I   
propose we send in some of our own people to rescue survivors."  
"You are suggesting we sacrifice our manpower to help cevillians?" asked another board   
member. "And what good would it do? We have only a relative handful of men to send against an   
army! What is the likeliness that they will do any good?"  
"Our men will be much more heavily armed then anyone else in the city. In addition, they   
have better training, and know what they are up against."  
There was a murmer of consideration around the table.  
"And let us not forget that the soldiers will certainly provide excellent combat data."  
"All in favor?" Spencer asked after a moment.  
The vote was, once again, unanimous.  
  
Meanwhile, halfway across the world, a similar board meeting was taking place in a similar   
boardroom...  
The faces around the table in the headquarters of Umbrella's French devision were much more   
tense.  
"Alright," one of the board members said harshly, "what do we know?  
"We sent in our team on the 19th. They entered the lab, and were never heard from again.   
After that, we began receiving reports of the T-Virus outbreak."  
"Have you heard anything from--"  
"No. Birkin seems to have disappeared."  
"My god... if anyone finds out we had a hand in this..."  
"Here's an even more terrifying prospect for you: what do you think happened to the G-  
Virus?"  
Everyone had to stop at that, imagining the effects of something like the G-Virus in post-  
outbreak Raccoon.  
"We have to get that sample out, before something even worse happens." There were tense nods   
of agreement.  
"How?" Someone asked. "We send a Tyrant," someone suggested. "One of the newer t-003 models,   
that can understand basic commands."  
There was a long pause. "That is the weirdest, craziest, most rediculous idea I have ever   
heard you say, Robert," one of the men remarked.  
"Well, what choice do we have? A Mr. X unit (a few people smirked for a second) has a much   
better chance of locating it then any human we could send in, as well as a better chance of   
survival."  
"And what if our "Mr. X" runs into one of our agents on his way out while he's carrying a   
vial of G-Virus, ever think of that?"  
"What's the likeliness of that? If they were alive, they would have reported by now."  
The President of the branch sat quietly at the head of the table, taking all the discussion   
in. "No," he said finally. "Let us wait a few days first. If by 7 o'clock on the evening of   
September 30th they have not reported in, then we shall send in our "Mr. X" unit."  
  
On September 27th, the Raccoon Police department had a major battle with the zombies. They   
barracaded a portion of town, and stood waiting for zombies to approach. They carried pistols,   
submachine guns, and shotguns.  
Unfortunately, this was not nearly enough. The Police force had no understanding of what they   
were up against. They believed that they could just spray in random directions and drive them   
off. They did not understand the dogged persistance the zombies had. Also, they underestimated   
the gap in numbers between the police and the Zombies. Finally, the police had no understanding   
of a zombie's physiology, and did not know until they tried that a zombie's brain had to be   
disconnected from its spinal chord before it would "die".  
By the time they realized these things, it was too late; they had already been overrun. The   
surviving police officers, as wel as cevillians, withdrew to the main RPD building and locked the   
doors, enforcing the place to withstand a seige from the undead. Over the next three days they   
were slowly killed off, one by one, by the zombies and mutants from this war of attrition.  
Durring the first fight, two helicopters with Umbrella logos dropped off several rediculously   
heavily-armed men. These men were tougher and better prepared then the police were, but they were   
too few against too many, and soon they too were running for their lives. 


	4. Chapter 3: Jill Valentine's last escape

Jill Valentine swore to herself as she gathered up her gear. Those Umbrella bastards were   
responsible for this, she knew it. She didn't know exactly how they could be, but she knew they   
were. Not even those fools were crazy enough to let the t-virus out on purpose. And Umbrella was   
very careful about keeping its viruses under raps at all times. Of course it had broken out in   
the Spencer mansion as well... the renewed pounding on her apartment door drew her rather   
forcefully out of these thoughts. Escape first. Rage later. Rather stupidly, Jill only had a   
Bereta 92, although with enough rounds to anniahlate an army. Unfortunately, she didn't have many   
places to put said rounds. She had been hoping to remain a little longer before having to run for   
it, but the pounding on the door to her apartment was testament to the fact that she had run out   
of time. And they had caught her wearing a miniskirt and tube top, meaning that (a) she had few   
places to store things and (b) much of her  
skin was exposed. This was mainly a psychological disadvantage, but still... She held her loaded   
bereta in one hand, stuffing clips into her waistband with the other, shooting nervous glances   
towards the pile of furnature for now blockading the door. She wondered why the hell she hadn't   
gotten a bigger gun. Granted she had quit STARS, and so she couldn't get easy access to large   
weapons, but still--why the hell, she swore at herself, didn't she go out and buy a simple   
goddamn shotgun? She had KNOWN she would have to leave, what the hell had she been thinking?  
The splintering crash of her furnature givving told her that she had run out of   
contemplation time. Zombies began to poor in from the hallway. Jill Valentine did not falter,   
raising her pistol and re-dispatching zombie after zombie with carefully-aimed headshots.  
But there were just too many of them. Jill had to run. She sprinted to the window, wrenched   
it open, and began climbing quickly down her fire escape. The zombies blindly followed, but did   
not possess the coordination to climb down the ladder after her, and simply fell bonelessly out   
the window. Unfortunately, this got them to the ground faster then Jill, who was not dead and had   
to worry about crippling injuries. The zombies did not have such an impediment, and while many of   
them had landed on their heads and all of them were lying on the ground in pain, this would not   
stay the case for long. Jill jumped off the ladder with three rungs to go and started running the   
instant her feet hit the pavement.  
  
Brad "Chickenheart" Vickers was also running in another section of Raccoon City, but he was   
in much deeper trouble than Jill. As far as he could tell it was just that... that one thing   
chasing him, but it was certainly enough. As he ran, he scribbled a note to himself, if only to   
keep himself sain:  
  
Oh, god! Its that monster in the black suit again! Its been chasing me for so long... What did I   
do? What did I do to deserve this? I know its going to catch me, I know it... there is no escape   
for me. I'm doomed. It will eventually catch me, no matter how long I hide. I wonder if the   
spring flowers are in bloom back home... ....I wish I could see them before I die.  
  
Brad continued to run, forgetting the note almost instantaneously after he wrote it. He   
eventually dropped it somewhere--he neither knew nor cared where.  
Brad whipped around the corner of an alleyway and came up against--a dead end. The   
terminology was entirely accurate, Brad noted with a sinking feeling in his chest. Glancing   
behind him, he had a faint glimmer of hope: zombies were hot on his heels. He had no idea when   
they had appeared, but his chance against eight zombies was better then his chance against--that.   
But he underestimated the space. Very soon, Brad ran out of it. This was it for Brad Vickers. He   
knew this, and voiced one loud long and despairing scream who no one would be able to hear but   
the implacable and uncaring undead fiends, a scream which, if someone had been present to hear   
it, would have been ignored in a city full of such screams.  
  
Except that there was a person there to hear it. That person was Jill Valentine. She had   
easily lost the zombies trailing her, and was heading the hell out of there, when she heard the   
scream and recognised it as that bastard Chickenheart. Jill had never forgivven him for his   
cowardice at the Spencer mansion, where he had taken off the instant the Cerbruses had appeared,   
leaving her and the rest of the team stranded and forced to take refuge in that... deathtrap of a   
mansion. But, although Brad WAS a yellow bastard, he didn't deserve being eaten alive--nobody   
did. Well, except maybe Wesker...  
  
Brad brought up his Smith and Wessin 1076 and began firing at heads. One, two, three down,   
and then the rest were upon him, serging forward to rip large chunks from his abdomen with their   
teeth. He brought his arm down hard on the top of one's head, disintigrating the fragile bones on   
its skull, then leaned hard to the left and fired a round into the zombie's exposed brain to   
complete the job, spraying it all over the wall. But there were still three left, and his wild   
move to escape had put him in in a corner, and the remaining three zombies were just inches away.   
They surged forward en mass--  
  
--and were felled by three well-aimed shots from Jill's bereta. They dropped bonelessly to   
the ground at Brad's feet.  
"... Jill?" Brad asked, shaking, his face chalky white.  
"Situation proove too dangerous for you again, Chickenheart?" Jill asked mockingly.  
"Sh-shut up. Look, goddamnit, how many times do I have to appologyze to you people for   
that?"  
"Appologyze? Brad, we could have DIED! Do you understand that? DIED! Me, Barry, Chris, we   
could have died so many times over all because of you... there's no appology necessary, Brad. Its   
pointless."  
"So are you going to bitch me out or are you going to remember that you just saved my life?"  
"Both, actually," Jill replied with a self-mocking smile. "Come on--if it wasn't obvious by   
now we need to get the CHRIST out of here."  
"Yeah--we need to go. NOW."  
"Is there something you're not telling me, Brad?"  
"Yes. There's this thing--it keeps chasing me. It's fucking HUGE, Jill!"  
"Probably a Tyrant. Great, that's the LAST thing we need."  
"This is not a tyrant, Jill. You forget, I was there when you fought the Tyrant, and this is   
not a Tyrant. I, do not know what this is. This... is something else. And ya know what? Its after   
STARS members."  
"No. No way. That's just paranoia. There's no way an Umbrella bioweapon could target anybody   
particularly."  
"Its not paranoia, goddamnit! Its--"  
Chickenheart never got to finish his sentence, because at that precise moment some sort of   
tentacle broke through the brick wall at the end of the alleyway and continued right on through,   
reaching the back of Brad's skull at an incredible speed and force, driving straight through and   
into his brain. The tentacle hoisted Brad up into the air and shook him like a rag doll, making   
some very unpleasant-sounding squelches, before withdrawing and sending Brad's corpse crashing to   
the ground. Jill had barely enough time to plunder Brad for his weapon and amunition before the   
creature that caused his death made its appearance by walking straight through what remained of   
the brick wall without appearing to notice it was there.  
Brad was right--it wasn't a Tyrant, and it was fucking huge. It towered over jill at a   
height of at least nine feet, its single eye yellow and owl-like as it swept over her as though   
assessing her. The side of its head where a second eye would be was simply a stitched-together   
patch of skin. It wore a black trenchcoat over its body in a rediculous attempt at mimmicing a   
human being. Under it, Jill could see tentacles writhing around as though its body structure was   
made from them. The creature's mouth was a permenant rictus, its fangs bared in a grimace that   
never left its face. The creature spoke one word: "SSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRSSSSSS...   
SSSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRS..." So, Brad had been right about that, too. Jill did the only sensible thing she could think of: she ran. 


End file.
